Have you seen the meme about the holidays? The one depicting a stick figure described as festive December 1-26, “confused, full of cheese, unsure of the day of the week” December 27-31, and fat from January on.
Give me an amen if you resemble that remark.
The remark may also be applicable if you replace “cheese” with “cookies”.
By the way, I’m Jennifer Grashel, and this is 2020.
Go ahead and appropriate that line as your own. You know you wanna. Also check out this hilarious channeling of Barbara Walters on NYE if you didn’t catch it live. Thanks to the friend who shared it with me.
I like to counteract some of the holiday food revelry with exercise, namely a brisk outdoor walk. Some, not all. You can’t outexercise a bad diet – the math doesn’t work.
The weather hasn’t been conducive to being outdoors for a few days, but early in the full-of-cheese period I took advantage of several opportunities. As best I recall, the first day was uneventful. And crazy mild enough for me to wear shorts.
Day two was also mild enough for shorts. Now, understand my medical need (at the very least, highly recommended by my specialist) for compression on every limb during things like travel and exercise. Also understand my lack of concern for conventional fashion trends, especially during a workout. I’m really only concerned with being healthy and … getting … it … done.
There will be knee socks in fun prints and colors. Ditto for compression sleeves. Much like exercise, fun prints and colors are conducive to my mental health. My aesthetic may appear mismatched and, as referenced above … I … don’t … care. It’s often a matter of what’s clean, plus I figure the more visible I am to passing cars, the more likely it is they’ll pass without hitting me.
I started day two’s walk in shorts, t-shirt, and the aforementioned compression gear. As often happens, I encountered a few children toward the back of the neighborhood, riding bikes and playing. I popped one of my earbuds out and made a remark about me “walking in circles” as we negotiated around each other at the dead end of the street.
I could tell they were studying my attire. Later in my walk – after I had stopped by the house for a stylish heather gray quarter-zip, as the weather felt colder than the numbers indicated – I encountered the same group of girls.
“I like your glasses.” I was wearing my rose colored cloudy day glasses.
“Oh thank you.”
“And I like your socks.”
We had a brief conversation about my gear and how making the colors/prints fun, well, makes a potentially uncomfortable situation fun. What a lovely group of young humans.
As a general rule, I prefer my walks undisturbed while I focus on the scenery and whatever music, book, or podcast is in my earbuds. I live in a quiet 25 mph dead end subdivision where most neighbors with pets have electronic fences, so this is usually very achievable. This time, however, I felt something touching my leg while deeply entrenched in my soundtrack. Wondering if I had a shoelace untied or something, I stopped and looked down to find a precious small to medium size pooch. It apparently had made a beeline for me from behind. The owner apologized profusely from their doorstep. The dog was small and friendly … no harm, no foul. An approaching car had stopped, so we all encouraged the pup back to its home turf before continuing on our way.
On day three, I realized my tolerance for cold may be higher than that of the average human, as evidenced by the desertion level on the streets near my home. It was a gloomy, gray day, but I wore my rose colored glasses and a red t-shirt sticking out from underneath that quarter-zip to make me more visible.
There are no sidewalks, but the area is sleepy enough that passing cars usually slow down and/or swing wide around pedestrians. In the event of two cars meeting, I step aside into the grass unless it really isn’t possible.
By the way, you may be aware that pedestrians have the right of way.
I do, as a pedestrian, also have a sense of self-preservation.
I don’t know what was wrong with this one driver. There were no other cars anywhere to be seen. Nothing unusual going on. As he approached, I expected him to do the customary slow down and swing wide move. But no. He whizzed on past, nearly taking me out as I hopped over into the wet, muddy grass.
“Geez, where’s the fire? I mean, I’d get to go to heaven early, but seriously, where’s the fire.”
I continued on, assuming (hoping?) this would be the most eventful part of my day.
A quarter mile or so later, I spotted a family who looked like they were headed to their car in the driveway as they exited their house. A large dog was with them, but no big deal, right? The family was right there.
Wrong.
I knew the house had sold in recent weeks, so maybe an electronic fence hadn’t been set up yet. Albeit friendly as far as I could tell, the dog galloped at top speed toward me. I turned away, hoping to discourage any jumping on me, potentially ripping my clothing and skin. (Been there, done that. Remind me to tell you about Zippy the Driving Dog sometime.) I successfully discouraged the jumping, but that lovely giant ball of fluff packed quite a wallop, hitting me with a force much larger than I expected.
I managed to remain upright and continued on. Sans apology and sans anyone seeming concerned whether I was okay.
But what is the moral of this story?
I don’t know, I’m just writing.
Okay, fine, here it is.
Sometimes the forces of good or evil – and you may never really know which – will pack a wallop and try to take you out. Even when you’re just trying to be healthy and do a good thing.
When you think you’re being judged, it’s possible you’re really being admired.
Go ahead and be bold.
Go ahead and do the healthy and good thing.
Just keep walking.
